#mystoryisntoveryet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theselfcaremaven · 1 year

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bjsrer · 1 year

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#TheSerenityFlowchart #truth #SoberIsSexy #SoberIsSexyAF #SpiritualAF #Soberlicious #NextLevel #FunInRecovery #ODAAT #LifeInRecovery #HopeAnchorsTheSoul #NamasteBitches #TheThirteenStepHouseInc #SoberMovement #InTheRooms #SoberGrid #SoberMode #SoberBuddy #MyStoryIsntOverYet; #4thDimensionOfExistence #FreedomFromFear #LiveLaughLearnLoveLife #Sobriety #RecoveryRocks #StayInTheTunnel #LivinWithMyself #CatchMeAtAMeetinBitches (at The Love Shack II) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmskhnmNiGg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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leighmichele · 2 years

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Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. Always remember you are not alone. If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide help is just a tect away Text 741741 to talk #mystoryisntoveryet #suicideprevention https://www.instagram.com/p/CiVR9cZOo9Z/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#mystoryisntoveryet #suicideprevention

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trappedbeautyunleashed · 1 year

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I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore and I’m scared I’ll never find her… I’ve been in such a bad mental space that I can’t even explain it, it’s so exhausting just to wake up and go through the days motions but I'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. The truth is that I get frustrated with myself about it again and again but i can’t fix it ….I take meds but I’m still like this still? Again? It's not that I feel weak, precisely. It's just this sense almost like - I've already been pushing against this Demon for years now, shouldn't I have gained more ground? I get frustrated because I'm sick of picking up the loose ends and I get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - I lose myself in a matter of months and spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. I stop taking care of myself and therapy gets harder to the point I want to avoid it and I let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off.somehow I start both sleeping too much and not enough. I get panic-attacks just from simple tasks …just the other day I was having one and literally bawling in my car in the parking lot of DG pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when I'm better, I'm embarrassed because how could I let it get that far?!?It feels like I already have done this so many times. Isn't there a way out of it? Isn't there a point where I've just... finally won? that it never happens again, that I just get to be done? maybe this is weakness that I often feel but comes to a point where I am used to it so I forget exactly how hard it gets. Do you even know how many times I’ve laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and try to drown out the thoughts with music as I lay there crying out to God- I can't anymore. I just can't. Im not even really upset just broken and lost…”It's okay” I hear but in that moment all I feel is that I’ve been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful until the darkness took over .... I'm just... done. Do you know how many times I wake up and I say -I can't and put my feet on the floor and said I can't, I don't want to and literally forced myself to get up and take a shower, feed and dress my kid but it’s just to much work to make my own so I just don’t won’t eat that day. I put a nice playlist on and try to dance it out but I really can't and it sucks because then the thoughts start suffocating me there is no end to this and I go to my appointment and I called a friend just to get no answer,I made myself coffee even if everything tasted like ashes and decided that I really should wait for the new album from that artist I love and i thought I can't, it's not worth it and then I washed my hands and dye my hair,drank more water and wrote some gibberish,signed up for some fancy Mom group that I’ll never really attend because by the time it comes around my mind and body say I just can't, i try to fight back like I’m at war…I can't, I won't do this again, and I paid my rent but haven’t vacuumed or sweapt all week but still made myself eat something fresh and healthy even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of carrots just because they looked delicious and do you know how often I closed my eyes and thought this is it I really fucking can't anymore seriously something has to give and I have nothing left that this “illness” can take but then I force my eyes closed till I finally drift to sleep and morning comes and I wake up and realize I survived another day anyway.

#keepgoing #mystoryisntoveryet #mentalhealthisreal #dontsufferinsilence

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livinglifewithpots · 2 years

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Something people don't know about brain injuries is that every injury is different. For some people a slight bump on the head might not do anything, but for others that bump could be life changing. One of the age old questions is "could a penny drop from the top of the empire state building and kill you." The answer is no but It can damage the skull. (Greenhut,2015) something so small can change someone's life in the matter of an instant. Society has its own stigma on brain injuries. We might not rationalize how a penny, a box, a lift gate, a pebble or door could cause such damage. Yet when a baseball, soccer ball, volleyball, a baseball bat, a car or a person causes the damage we understand it better. When in reality the damage from something so unpredictable could be just as damaging as those we are more aware of. This is the case with me. This is a current picture of my neck. Can you see anything wrong with it? Is it normal to you? Sadly it's not. It's far from normal. I found out just recently, all the neck pain I had from my brain injury was caused from a bone sticking into my skull. Another thing caused from a box being dropped on my head. Sadly injuries like this are more common than one might think but certain doctors don't know to look for it so it can sometimes cause people to be misdiagnosed or overlooked. Although I told doctors about the ball on the back of my neck and all the pain. They missed it. I'm very lucky to have found a chiropractor that knew what to look for. He's helping me get my c1 vertebrae out of my skull and get my spine/neck back to normal, 3.25 years after my initial injury. He says it won't be a cure all but it'll relieve alot of my issues. #braininjuryawarenessmonth #braininjuryawareness #mystory #mystoryisntoveryet #recoveryroad #braininjuryrecovery #braininjurysurvivor https://www.instagram.com/p/Ca-ysNIOadZ/?utm_medium=tumblr

#braininjuryawarenessmonth #braininjuryawareness #mystory #mystoryisntoveryet #recoveryroad #braininjuryrecovery #braininjurysurvivor

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wildflowerscript · 3 years

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7 Years

i wasnt sure how i wanted this piece to go. i could open my soul and exploit all my deepest emotions. or i could enlighten the world the the inspiration as wisdom ive acquired over the years. i guess ill just have to go somewhere in the middle. its been 7 years but man it feels like a lifetime. i guess i should start with what happened. so, 7 years ago i was laying in a hospital bed holding my moms hand and crying. i could see the anguish on her face. she was broken and devastated. i hated myself because it was my fault. i caused this pain. the most precious soul on the earth was tearing herself apart because of me. she blamed herself for everything. see a few months prior i finally told that my uncle had been abusing me for the past 11 years. if you thought going through the abuse was hard, it had nothing on the aftermath. the trauma of reliving it everyday. talking to police and counselors. ptsd, anxiety, depression. feeling worthless and dirty and broken. and then i had to watch my mother fight with everything in her to keep me safe and get me justice, all the while beating herself for not noticing. nit seeing the signs. not protecting me. i never thought about how my trauma would affect her. i almost regretted telling when i saw the vacant look on her face each day. when i heard her cry in the shower. when she stayed up all night watching me sleep. and here i was again, putting her through pain. its kinda weird that she felt so much guilt, i never blamed her. still dont. but anyways. trauma that led to ptsd, which led to anxiety, which led to depression, which led to self harm, and eventually my attempted suicide. which brings us back to the hospital bed. i guess i could have went in to detail about how my mom and brother had to pin me down while i screamed on the couch, begging them to please just let me go. let me go. let me die. im ready to go. i havent been strong enough to fully revisit that memory. so here we are at the hospital, waiting for transport to take me to a mental institution. i would stay there for a few days and, ya know, get help or whatever. turns out it was mostly group therapy and watching napolean dynamite. so its no surprise that the same day i was released my sister, 4 at the time, waled in my room to find me slitting my wrist. she stills remembers it. i still cry when i think about the horror she felt as she ran to grab my mom. and back i went. so much was wrong. i couldnt he myself and i just kept putting everyone else through pain. i mean i knew itd suck for a while if i died, but they would be some much better off. i went from feeling overwhelming shame and guilt to nothing at all. that was the scary part. when your hand is in the fire and you cant feel the burn. i had no way out, no hope. nothing. i was sliding further and further into the darkness with no end in sight. flash forward to this morning when i woke up and got ready for work. i had a pretty basic day. did some charting, talked to friends, had a good lunch, hung out with the family until bed. no fear or pain or shame or guilt. peace and content took its place. feeling loved and made new. my beautiful mother laughed today and smiled. my sister made a new memory. my brother joked with me on the couch. my life isnt a dream or exactly what i want, but man is it a 180 from where i was. im not that little girl anymore. im a woman who struggles still with anxiety and depression from time to time. self image and self love. but i can cope now. i have an amazing support system, and healthy coping mechanisms. i have my faith and an amazing relationship with God. i have good days and bad, but i have the strength to stand and fight when i can, and seek help when i cant. im a survivor and an advocate. im alive, and my story isnt over yet ;

#writing #suicideawarness #get help #mystoryisntoveryet #7 years later

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honestynhedonismthings · 3 years

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Hell and Back

I’d already been through the wringer. I suffered from a case of sepsis which I found out later was caused by a cut I’d received while having my new mirena inserted. I was getting a new mirena inserted after earlier in the year falling pregnant with a unviable embryo, meaning it wasn’t implanted in my uterus. I miscarried that pregnancy, it was never viable to begin with but it hurt just as much to lose it. It was later discovered I’d fallen pregnant because the mirena I’d had in at the time was dislodged and actually broken, hence getting it replaced when I found out. The most shocking thing wasn’t even the mirena saga, it’s the fact that after my ectopic pregnancy, I’d spent a lot of time and money on doctors who all told me that it was very unlikely I would ever conceive naturally. The sepsis was caught early because being a medical student, I know to keep my own records, and was able to help my doctors retrace my steps and figure out how what could be causing me to be so sick as it was an unusual type of sick for me. I’ve been through a lot in my life, I know my body and I know when something isn’t right. Fast forward to post recovery and you’re being helpful and nice and its familiar and we fell into old patters and slept together.. more than once.. A mistake really but when emotions are running high, sometimes you lose control. It stops anyway, we stop talking. I’m doing well, I’m being a teenager for the first time in my life and everything is sorta normal. I missed my period. I never miss my period. I took 12 pregnancy tests and threw out my pack of smokes after taking the first one. I was pregnant. Scared shitless and pregnant. You’re the only person I’ve had unprotected sex with. I couldn’t believe it. After the miscarriage, I double checked with the doctors again and they still said I’d never have a viable pregnancy and here I was, pregnant, with my ex boyfriend’s child when we’re both finally moving on. I spent that night at the hospital. Shortly after finding out I was pregnant I began to have pains in my stomach, I assumed it was anxiety and ignored it for a few hours until the pain got worse and I feared this pregnancy was ectopic as the pain was so similar to that of an ectopic pregnancy and having already had surgery for that when I was 16, I wasn’t ready to do that again. After a few hours and tests at the hospital, I was free to go home and Chad bought me dinner and I cried. I instantly knew you wouldn’t believe me. You were always in denial about things that were right in front of you. The biggest being that we weren’t good together, the second being that Chad and I are the same person basically. You were stalking my private Tumblr blog, as you were known to do. That’s how you found out I was pregnant. I’d written a journal entry about the whole thing and you messaged me accusing me of lying and came to my house to confront me. I had evidence waiting though, I knew you. Everything I said had to come with evidence when we were together so I knew I had to be especially prepared this time. You’d already accused me of lying in the previous unviable pregnancy; even after I took a pregnancy test with you right there, even after you followed me to the pregnancy advisory centre and accused me of not having an appointment, records confirm I did. You came to my house and I gave you my ultrasounds, the 12 pregnancy tests, the discharge letter from the hospital and a pregnancy record book signed and dated from my GP, you still thought it was bullshit. I was devastated and done with the conversation. I was strong. Until I got sick. I had hyperemesis which is morning sickness on steroids and I’d had it the entire time I was pregnant. For 8 weeks I couldn’t drink or eat. Every day I would try and take a prenatal vitamin because I hadn’t decided and I wanted to do but I wanted to do what was right until I had, but every single day it would come back up and I would cry at my own body hating me. My own body had been against me from the very beginning and it killed me. During those weeks you would ask me to come with you to McDonalds and you would sit there and tell me it’s over with her and you want to be with me but we can’t have a child right now. You sat there and told me you loved me and we would be together and have a family the right way but I had to get a termination now. I tried so hard to be strong but I always ended up in tears which made me that much more tired. I could barely stay upright as it was. I was so nauseous, every day I thought I’d pass out trying to get to the bathroom. Chad used to come home during his lunch breaks to find me laying feotal position crying in exhaustion because the nausea meant I never slept, anger for you trying to manipulating me, hunger, sadness, but probably worst of all was the the all consuming love I felt for the baby inside me. I’d been told it wasn’t possible. All I’d ever wanted was to be a mum and there were so many obstacles in the way but there she was, innocent in all of this. Perfect. But you didn’t care. She was your obstacle, she was an inconvenience to you and that made you determined to get what you wanted. I most likely would have come to that decision anyway because right now I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else except for Chad, he’s my soul mate. The problem I have is that the decision wasn’t mine. It was a manipulation. I can’t come to terms with what happened because I know I didn’t make that decision for myself. I respect her memory every single day and every single decision I’ve made since has been so one day I’ll be ready for her. That day you took me to the pregnancy advisory centre, I couldn’t fight anymore, I’d given in to your manipulation. I was so tired and sore and hurt, I needed you to take care of me, you’d been in my life for so long and I momentarily forgot everything else, in that moment I just needed you to make it okay. It was only supposed to be an initial consultation. I’d been there before, I knew the drill. I knew in the back of my head I still had a little time for a sign from the universe, something that would tell me it’s okay and I’d be at peace with it because it would have been my decision. But they had a cancelation and of course I’d already been fasting, I hadn’t eaten for weeks. It was happening too fast and you were right there looking so happy that there was no way out. I couldn’t tell you no and that I needed more time. We both know how that would have gone down. All of a sudden there’s a nurse putting an IV in my arm and I’m crying asking for you but you’re not there. I’m all alone. And before I know it, she’s taken from me. Sucked from me with a medical vacuum cleaner like she’s nothing but she was my everything. And I’m awake and I’m still crying for you, I’m yelling at nurses to get you but it’s like they can’t hear me, begging them to bring you here, trying to get up and not being able to feel my legs. Watching people walk past me like nothing happened and I have nothing to be upset about because I came here, you didn’t put a gun to my head. It was a different type of gun and it was pointing at my heart and when she was taken from me I had nothing. Eventually someone brought me out to see you and I can’t believe what I’ve done. I’m crying and you told me you loved me, I didn’t know it would be for the last time. I had no idea just how alone I really was. She was gone, and the next day so were you.

And it’s really only because of Chad that I’ve come out on the other side better than ever. Instead of putting the pieces back together for me, he gave me the time and understanding I needed to put myself back together in a new way and become a better person. Have I made mistakes, fuck yes, but who hasn’t. I can’t regret a single second of it because it’s all what got me to now and I’m the best version of myself right now. I never thought I’d actually make it to 21 and here I am and I actually want to be here. For me.

#mystoryisntoveryet #schizoaffective #disorder #pregnancy #miscarriage #termination #domesticviolencesurvivor #recovery

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pokingholes-cptsdwarrior · 4 years

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#selflove #cptsdrevovery #Repost @nate_postlethwait ・・・ The value of self-love is underrated in our culture. It is one of the bravest things you can learn to do, after experiencing trauma.⁣ ⁣ So many terms get thrown around loosely, but the reality after trauma, is that we learn coping skills to survive our new life, and often times those coping skills come with holding ourselves captive because we don’t know how to function.⁣ ⁣ If we can take one step towards being gentle, curious, kind, and compassionate with our younger self, it will immediately begin to lead us to a path of healing.⁣ ⁣ I’ve said before, self harm/self-hate is affirming what the abuser has done. We are actually agreeing with them that we are not lovable. It’s bullshit. It’s absolute bullshit. What they did was never meant to be done, but we have the freedom to learn to love ourselves, and respect the pain and healing that can come with it.⁣ ⁣ Step 1: Affirm: “What I went through was ______ (hard, painful, scary, sad). Based on what happened, my emotional response to that event makes sense, even the way it shows up now.”⁣ ⁣ Step 2: Repeat: “I will not continue to hate myself over harm someone else has done to me.”⁣ ⁣ You are loved. As you are. Where you are and deserve to experience that today. 🙏💞⁣ #trauma #selfcare #cyclebreaker⁣ #emdr #emdrtherapy #traumahealing #selfdiscoveryjourney #mystoryisntoveryet #scapegoat #emotionalabusesurvivor #traumainformed #empathsofinstagram #empath #highlysensitivepeople #highlysensitive #abuserecovery #safespaces #cptsd #selfhealers #ptsdhelp #traumainformed #posttraumaticgrowth #innerchild #theothersideofsaved https://www.instagram.com/p/CAHhOXxgxct/?igshid=va71lv0mohqs

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deanna-bored · 3 years

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:C

It’s funny how a person can be the reason not to commit suicide, but then they can also be the reason

#depression #heartbreak #mystoryisntoveryet #notworthit #dontdoit

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jojo1991 · 3 years

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My story isn't over yet ;

#mystoryisntoveryet

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honeyybear94 · 4 years

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You have thought me nothing but love. Loving others. Putting others first. But you never seemed to teach me about self love. About loving myself. Making myself a priority. Or how fucking hard it is to truly love my body. How to accept myself the way that I am. It was hard. So fucking hard. I grew up learning how to hate my body. That I needed to change it. That something was wrong with me. It made me think I was worth less. That my life didn't matter. I started to feel bad about myself. I start having suicidal thoughts. Waging a war inside myself. One that I never seemed to win. I tried to seek for help. But I couldn't bare to have people think I was broken. That my smile was so fucking fake. It seemed easier just to say I am fine. Or I'm just tired. No need to worry. I lived like that for many years. Until last year, I wanted to end it all. I was done. Done feeling like this. Done pleasing others. I wrote a note. I read it outloud. Over and over again. I broke down. I cut up my legs and wrist. I didn't know if I would be alive the next morning. Or if a lived one would find me dead in the morning. I believe it was by the grace of God, that I am here. I'm here sharing some of my story with you. Since that day, I made these promises to myself. I promise to love myself. I promise to love my body no matter what. I promise myself I am worth it. I am worth it all. I promise I will continue this journey of self love. I promise I will make myself a priority. I promise myself I deserve the love that I so freely give to others. And I promise you, that even though it was hard for you to love yourself, I will be thankful for everything that you have taught me..

#selflove #loveyourbody #suicidalthoughts #youareworthit #youareworthy #selfloveisajourney #loveyourself #depression #youarenotalone #dontlosehope #promisetoloveyourself #youdeservetheloveyousofreelygivetoothers #mystory #mystoryisntoveryet #iamstillhere

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theselfcaremaven · 1 year

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bjsrer · 1 year

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here ta watch @chelcielynn_ rock a lil #StandUp #nstuff #truth #SoberIsSexy #Soberlicious #SoberAF #RecoveryRocks #HopeAnchorsTheSoul #ODAAT #FunInRecovery #NextLevel #LifeInRecovery #ProgressNotPerfection #NamasteBitches #FollowYourArrow #DrunkLivesMatter #DoTheWork #FreedomFromFear #BeGoodToYourself #MyStoryIsntOverYet; #LiveLearnLoveLife #RecoveryRockStars (at Saenger Theatre) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqRdU23LEHq/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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elleabeille0418 · 4 years

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I’ve never been a very open person. Preferring to carry my load inwardly, rather than out in the open for the world to see. Mostly because, to me, doing so meant admitting that I had the ability to fail. And fail I did. A lot. The more I carried the heavier my heart became until it was just too much and I was left laying on my bathroom floor sobbing and contemplating the one way to finally let it all go. At the time, giving up seemed like the best possible solution. The burden of my failures as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and an overall human being would be over and the hurt would finally go away. And then my little girl knocked on the bathroom door. She needed help with something simple that to her seemed world ending. And that’s when I realized that even my child knew the basic necessity of reaching out for help better than her mom did. That’s when I sat up, dried my tears, and threw the bottle away. Mental illness is not imaginary. It’s not something those of us who live with it concoct for attention. It’s real. It’s terrifying and for some of us, it’s literally world ending. I was at that point once; not so long ago. I don’t write this to garner sympathy or to beg for attention. I’m writing it so that someone else out there might realize that temporary problems do not deserve a permanent solution. Things can get better. You can can get better. I will get better. One day at a time. One breath at a time. #mentalhealthawarenessmonth #depressionawareness #mystoryisntoveryet #suicideawareness #thesemicolonproject #theoptiontostop #butthedecisiontokeepgoing

#mentalhealthawarenessmonth #depressionawareness #mystoryisntoveryet #suicideawareness #thesemicolonproject #theoptiontostop #butthedecisiontokeepgoing

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lunasunflower28 · 5 years

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#alwayskeepfighting #jaredpadelcki #mystoryisntoveryet #spnfamily #newtattoo #semicolon

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ziawaste-blog · 5 years

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My daughter and I got matching semicolon tattoos to celebrate our birthdays. . A semicolon is used by an author when he could end the sentence but choose not to. . In this case our life is the sentence and we are the semicolon. #mystoryisntoveryet #semicolonproject (at Santa Fe, New Mexico) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bz3rqVaFcMG/?igshid=1uioyyncqh1oi

#mystoryisntoveryet #semicolonproject

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